


and i said "promise?"

by spuddypotat



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Sort Of, Vampire AU, also kinda - Freeform, theres a lot of Really Soft Gay Bullshit, this time it jonah tho hehe, touchstarved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28039143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spuddypotat/pseuds/spuddypotat
Summary: vampire au but this time its jonahbasically barnabas finds out abt jonahs vampirism and there's a lot of Sad Gay
Relationships: Barnabas Bennett & Jonah Magnus, Barnabas Bennett/Jonah Magnus
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	and i said "promise?"

**Author's Note:**

> alright so *claps* this was inspired by my brothers suggestion to write another vampire au after reading my last one, but this time its jonahbas and its really soft
> 
> also yes, the title is a john mulaney quote, what of it
> 
> hope yall enjoy lmao

_My dearest Barnabas,_

_I hope you will not be upset with how soon I am writing to you after our last meeting, but I feel this is a rather urgent matter—I must request that you come to visit me at the soonest time that is convenient to you, for I have something I must confess, something which cannot be expressed through writing. I hope to hear from you soon._

_–Jonah_

Barnabas read and re-read the letter in his hand over a few times during the carriage ride to Jonah’s place of residence, all the while turning the words over in his mind, trying to glean some sort of hint as to what it was referring to. It was written in a frantic and desperate hand, skipping all of the flourishes and pleasantries that were often found in Jonah’s letters. This worried Barnabas, evoking images of a man in danger or ill, something terrible enough to prompt Jonah to write such a letter, and he began restlessly fiddling with the edges of the paper.

“ _A rather urgent matter_ ”? Barnabas racked his memory for any possible signs that something might be wrong with his friend the last time they were together but decidedly came up empty for a solid reason. Sure, Jonah was known to overwork himself from time to time, but it never got to the point that he would need to urgently alert a friend. These thoughts continued to race around Barnabas’s mind, only coming to a halt when he realized the carriage had stopped in front of Jonah’s house. 

He stepped out, thanking the driver, and made his way up to the front door. Anxiety, biting and sharp, twisted his stomach as he lifted a hand to knock. He forced a deep breath as he waited for an answer, an attempt to calm his racing pulse. At length, the door finally opened to reveal Jonah, looking generally like himself save for a slight pallor. He seemed to sigh with relief as he saw Barnabas there, inviting him in with a weak smile. 

The two men walked into the parlor, Barnabas taking a seat on one of the more comfortable chairs in the room as Jonah continued to stand. If Barnabas was being honest, he might say that Jonah looked more on edge than he himself felt—something that often seemed to be quite the opposite between the two of them. 

Barnabas noticed that there was a set for tea on the table in front of him, but there was only one cup sitting next to the teapot. He glanced up at Jonah, who had remained standing some 6 feet away from Barnabas. 

“Are you not going to have tea?” he asked. Jonah shook his head quickly in response, his face showing a myriad of emotions as he presumably collected his thoughts. After a moment, he took a deep breath. 

“You got my letter, I presume,” he said. 

“Yes, of course! Are you alright?” Barnabas asked, concern suddenly overriding his previous relief at seeing Jonah in one piece. Jonah continued to stand there, fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve. 

“I wish I could say yes, but I’m afraid that isn’t the case,” he muttered. Barnabas sat up, leaning towards his friend. 

“You aren’t ill, are you?” 

“In a way, I think I am…” Jonah trailed off, and Barnabas took note of his pale complexion and shaking hands. He suddenly stood up, taking a step towards Jonah, who backed away in a jerky motion. Barnabas felt hurt. 

“You must sit, my friend. You look like you haven’t slept in days,” he said, attempting to hide the fear in his voice. 

“That’s just it, though. If I sit down, I’m afraid I won’t be able to…” he trailed off again, voice trembling. Barnabas stepped back, forcing a deep breath to calm himself. 

“Okay. I won’t go near you, and you don’t have to sit down. But you have to tell me what’s going on,” he asserted, setting himself back down into the chair. Jonah inhaled, then cleared his throat. 

“Barnabas, you are one of my closest friends, I hope you know. I can trust you with anything. Something… something ghastly has happened, and I could think of no one better to turn to. But I fear that in telling you, I risk putting our friendship and trust on the line,” he explained. He was stalling, of course, but Barnabas could see that he was clearly in distress. 

“Jonah, we’ve been friends for many years now. I am positive that nothing you can say will damage our friendship. And even if it is so ghastly, I will be here to help you through it,” Barnabas said earnestly. All the while he realized he was reaching out a hand towards Jonah, although the distance meant that he would not reach the outstretched hand with his own, therefore leaving Barnabas in a rather awkward-looking position. 

He quickly withdrew it, looking down suddenly at the tea set on the table. He came to the conclusion that the tea would help calm his nerves and poured himself a cup as Jonah began to speak again. 

“That’s just the thing though—I’m not even sure if this is something you would be able to help me with. It… oh, I fear you’ll think me mad for this, but it isn’t just some regular sickness. It’s… what you might call a _supernatural_ sickness, something that can’t be explained in medical terms…” His voice wavered, and he trembled where he stood. If possible, he paled even further and exhaled sharply as he shakily lowered himself onto the couch next to him. 

An icy spike of worry drove itself into Barnabas’s heart as he watched his friend practically collapse onto the couch and he quickly set the teacup onto the table. He shot up from the chair again and this time stumbled over to Jonah without really thinking. 

“Jonah! You’re not well. Please, tell me what’s wrong so I can help you,” Barnabas pleaded, taking Jonah’s cold, pale hand in his own. Jonah drew in a shaky breath, a pained expression painting his features. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered, his voice cracking down the middle. 

“You won’t hurt me, I promise. Whatever it is, I won’t let you,” Barnabas insisted, “Please…” 

“I…” Jonah began, pausing for a second to catch his breath. “I’ve become… I’ve become a vampire, Barnabas,” he admitted, pulling away suddenly.

Barnabas was speechless. He had heard rumors and stories of creatures who would go out in the night and drain people, but he had never fully believed them. Truthfully, he didn’t fully believe Jonah either at that moment. 

But as he thought back, Barnabas could recall him shying away from the light of day, often erring to have outings in the evening, always looking so _pale_ in the few times he had seen him recently. On any other occasion these wouldn’t raise suspicion, but seeing Jonah like this now, so frantic and distressed, it all seemed to click into place. 

As a myriad of emotions and thoughts fluttered through his head, Barnabas just looked at Jonah, dumbstruck, at a loss for words. 

“A vampire… But, Jonah! You’ve—How… How long, Jonah?” he cried, struggling to string a full sentence together. After a moment, Jonah turned back to look at him and took a steadying breath. 

“A few weeks now. Oh, Barnabas, it was terrible; after the incident, I was bedridden for two days, paralyzed with the knowledge of what I would have to do to sustain myself. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing myself and hurting those I cared for, or worse, being found out! I figured I must determine a way to… _feed_ without arousing suspicion, only taking lonely or unimportant people who wouldn’t be missed. But I’ve spent so much time _scheming_ that I’m near the point that I fear I might lose control. I can’t go on like this, knowing that I may hurt you,” Jonah explained. 

“Then I volunteer to be your source,” Barnabas said without thinking, surprising both himself and Jonah, judging by his expression. 

“You—what?” Jonah asked, confusion prominent on his face. 

“I—I want to let you feed on me before you get desperate. While you’re still lucid. Just enough to keep you sustained until you figure this out,” he replied, becoming more confident with his answer as he spoke. 

Something akin to relief flickered across Jonah’s face for just a split second before he looked conflicted again. 

“But… What if I lose control? What if I take too much?” he worried aloud. 

“I won’t let you,” Barnabas declared. Jonah looked a bit taken aback by his sudden and direct answer. 

“You won’t… let me? But—there’s no telling what I'll do if I'm desperate," Jonah responded frantically.

"Jonah," Barnabas said, taking Jonah's hand in his own and locking eyes with him, "I will not let you get to that point. This I can promise you." Something seemed to break behind Jonah's eyes, bright with tears that threatened to spill, as he breathed out a heavy sigh. 

"I believe you," he murmured softly, squeezing Barnabas's hand in return. 

The two of them lingered there for a moment, eyes locked, neither of them choosing to acknowledge the intimacy of their touch for the time being.

Jonah looked down at their joined hands, finally breaking eye contact with Barnabas. He inhaled sharply, suddenly pulling his hand away. Barnabas sincerely hoped that Jonah didn’t notice the way his own hand seemed to resist the motion, desperate for a few more seconds of contact. The air suddenly turned awkward, the reality of what they were doing settling heavily on both men’s consciences. 

Barnabas stood up, thinking that physical distance would clear the uncomfortable air, but if anything it just added a heavy, aching bereft feeling that hung in his chest. Barnabas internally scolded himself for expecting a similar reaction to a feeling from Jonah.

“Well, I’m always a letter’s notice away if you need me. And please, Jonah, do not hesitate to ask me for help. I understand if you feel like you have to deal with this yourself to avoid hurting others, but I would do anything to help my friend,” he said morosely. 

He had resigned himself to the idea that his spark of a feeling had just been swiftly snuffed out by the icy hand of the unrequited, suddenly pining for the sweet, cold embrace of loneliness that awaited him just outside the house. For the moment, Jonah remained where he sat, expression unreadable. 

Barnabas took this as his cue to leave, muttering a half-hearted, “Well, it’s getting late. I best be going,” and turning on his heel to leave the room. But just as he took the first few steps, he felt a hand on his arm, a plea to stay. He turned around as Jonah looked up at him from where he stood, a single tear falling from his glistening eyes. 

“I need you here… Please…” The request was barely uttered above a whisper, but it spoke volumes to what was going on behind those ever so mysterious eyes of his. 

“Okay,” Barnabas responded, mirroring the soft tone of his friend. He led Jonah to the couch, the two of them now sitting next to each other. “How… How did it happen, if you don’t mind me asking?” Barnabas said after a moment. Jonah tensed ever so slightly but began to speak nonetheless.  
  
“As I said, it happened a few weeks ago. The exact details are hazy, but I recall walking home from a party one night when I was suddenly attacked by a stranger. He… Well, I’m sure what he did is evident by the scar,” he explained, pulling down his high collar to reveal two small partially healed wounds, a deep maroon surrounded by the angry red of irritated skin. Barnabas looked on with curiosity and realized he had to restrain himself from lifting a hand to explore them for himself. Jonah continued.

“God knows why, but he suddenly stopped after some time, looking up behind me. Then he muttered something like, ‘oh, this one looks _far_ more satisfying,’ and dropped me there. From where I lay on the ground I could see the same vampire attacking a man much larger than I.

“I suppose my blood wasn’t up to the vampire’s _standards_ and he left me for dead while he drained some other poor sod,” he scoffed, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “I really don’t know how long it took, but by the time the vampire left, the other man was dead on the ground. I was far too weak to do anything but crawl the rest of the way home,” he continued. 

“And you know from that point, I was bedridden for two days. I’ve been trying to combat the fatigue with anything else, but I already know what I have to do. I won’t say _that_ is the reason I wrote to you, but I can’t deny there was some darker intent there.” Jonah looked away guiltily as he spoke. Barnabas gently turned Jonah’s face to look at him with his hand.

“Then you’re lucky I agreed to let you feed on me,” he said softly. Jonah seemed to lean into the touch a bit, momentarily closing his eyes as he did so.

“Yes, and I am eternally grateful for that,” he sighed, lifting a hand to gently cover the one on his face and looking back up at Barnabas with an emotion he was sure he had _never_ seen in his eyes before. Barnabas had seen his fair share of rare emotions, ranging from sorrowful to terrified, in Jonah’s eyes, but this one was a first. If he was thinking clearer, he would be able to identify it as something akin to what he had been feeling all afternoon. 

But right now all he could focus on was the hand on his own, now idly rubbing a thumb over the back of it. Distantly, he had the thought that if anyone saw what they were currently doing, they might be appalled, but it was far enough away that he just stayed in the moment, taking in the sweet sensations of it. Although Jonah’s skin was cool, nearing the edge of cold, the points of contact seemed to burn into Barnabas’s own, as if there were a strong electrical current flowing through them. 

And then Jonah _smiled._ Smiled— _genuinely_ smiled—Barnabas realized, for the first time since he had arrived. It revealed two pointed canines, far sharper than a normal set of teeth, that seemed to glisten unnaturally in the candlelight. Barnabas hated to admit it, but he felt a touch of heat rise in his cheeks just then.

“It’s funny, is it not? My mind is positively racing with thoughts, but I can’t seem to put any of them into words,” Jonah chuckled, though it almost sounded tinged with something more bitter. He slid his hand down Barnabas’s arm as he did so, never breaking contact, but moving to rub the outside of his arm gently. 

“No, I… I feel the same way,” Barnabas responded almost too quickly. “I—There must be a word for what I’m feeling right now, but I can’t… seem to focus…” He trailed off, suddenly unable to take his eyes off of the shining fangs in Jonah’s mouth. 

“Huh. I can’t either,” Jonah murmured, barely above a whisper, slowly beginning to lean in towards Barnabas in a way that strangely reminded him of a cat about to pounce. Barnabas just sat there, completely still, as he struggled to process what was happening. Just as he could feel Jonah’s hot breath against his neck, he pulled away on instinct as his brain caught up and he realized what Jonah was doing. 

Barnabas had both hands on Jonah’s shoulders now, having instinctively begun to push him away. His eyes now looked hazy and unfocused, and Barnabas could swear he saw a hint of red in those bright green irises of his. He closed them quickly, shaking his head rapidly a few times. When he opened them again, he looked more like himself, but suddenly much more exhausted.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t—didn’t realize what I was doing. I, uh… I don’t think I can go much longer without…” Jonah began, trailing off as he approached the next few words.

Barnabas was filled with sharp understanding, realizing now what was to come next. He slowly lowered his hands from Jonah’s shoulders, tentatively lifting them to his own collar. 

“Oh… Right, I…” He gulped, hoping his anxiety wasn’t too noticeable. “I suppose this is really happening,” he muttered, more to himself than to Jonah. He unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, hoping he could get out of this with minimal staining. Jonah leaned forward again, but this time it seemed more of his own accord.

The hot breath against his neck made Barnabas shiver, and he planted a shaking hand on the couch beside him to give some semblance of support. He tensed, expecting the bite to happen right then, but instead felt Jonah’s lips brush against his skin, and Barnabas internally cursed himself for the way he felt the heat rise in his face again.

Now that he had a sense of where Jonah was planning to bite, the bite itself came as less of a shock. Of course, it still sent a jolt of panic through Barnabas, but he was sure it would be worse if he hadn’t known where to expect it. 

Surprisingly, it wasn’t the pain that he felt first; rather, it was the heat of it—the heat of his own blood, that of Jonah’s mouth—that immediately invaded his senses. He felt a sudden, horrid rush of dizziness after the initial bite, and he had to wrap his heavy arms around Jonah to remain at least somewhat upright from where he sat, letting out an involuntary gasp as he did so.

As the massive wave of shock and panic began to subside, the pain began to creep in along the edges, a deep and stinging ache as his blood was drained. His mind struggled to keep up with the intense pain he was feeling, but as his blood continued to be drained, less of it made its way to his brain, making everything feel fuzzy and strange.

A few more seconds passed and Barnabas wasn’t sure how long he would be able to last; his hands had begun to lose feeling and his vision began to blur in and out of focus. He was dimly aware that he was making noises, though what they were meant to convey, he could not tell. 

Somewhere, from the absolute depths of his consciousness, arose a phrase that threatened to spill from his lips among the nonsense. With what little was left of his logical mind, he willed himself to keep it inside, but suddenly Jonah flicked the tip of his tongue against one of the wounds and Barnabas lost all sense of mind.

“J—Jonah, I love you,” he choked out, barely clinging to a thread of consciousness.

All at once, Jonah ceased what he was doing, something Barnabas was vaguely aware of as everything went dark.

—

As those three simple words registered in Jonah’s mind, his body completely froze up. Not two seconds later, Barnabas was limp in his arms, and he quickly lowered him onto the couch. Then he sat there, paralyzed with emotion and reeling from the shock.

His mind was once again racing with feelings he dare not name to himself, much less aloud, which Barnabas had just _muttered_ out of the blue as if it were the most casual thing. And at such a strange time, too; Jonah could hardly reason why anyone would utter such a phrase while being _drained_ , of all things. 

Of course, he was sure he could hear something in Barnabas’s tone earlier, but he didn’t think he would outright _say it_. 

He thought back to the touches they had shared, each lingering caress, and realized there had always been _something_ there. If not from Barnabas, then certainly from himself. Back further, he realized he may have been the first one to actually show any signs of his inkling of a feeling, always being the one to invite Barnabas to events and outings, feeling bereft after he had gone home early to be alone. 

It almost sickened him, the degree to which it seemed he longed for Barnabas. But it didn’t. Somehow, their long history of friendship colored that sense of longing with nostalgic tenderness, something that was unique to Barnabas as opposed to his other correspondents.

After a few moments of this emotion-borne paralysis, he shook his head as if to shake away the swimming thoughts, and drew his attention back to the unconscious man lying next to him. Seeing the deep red of the wounds on his neck reminded Jonah of what had just happened, and he scrambled to stop the bleeding. 

Thanks to Jonah’s careful placement of the bite, the wounds didn't profusely bleed, but much more blood loss certainly couldn't be a good thing. He wiped away the majority of the blood, applying a bandage and hoping that would be enough.

He then attempted to lift Barnabas from the couch, in the hopes of getting him to a more comfortable bed, but stopped when he realized that Barnabas was far too heavy for him to carry. A little embarrassed at his lack of strength, he resigned himself to leaving Barnabas on the couch, moving a pillow beneath his head as a means of compensating.

He stood there for a moment, his many thoughts beginning to circle again in his mind, now feeling a minute stab of guilt over what he had done. Of course, he had to do it to survive, but having done it to his… _close friend,_ he couldn’t help but feel as if he had wronged him somehow, even if he had agreed to it.

He knelt down beside Barnabas, taking one of his now pale hands in his own, and just sat there a moment, allowing himself to feel guilty.

Through the guilt, Jonah attempted to convince himself that it was _only_ because of their close friendship, desperately clinging to that one thread of doubt and denial that weaved in and out of each thought. Yes, he cared, but he didn’t care in _that way_. That would be silly, right? A childish expression of misinterpreted feelings.

And then, completely in spite of himself, Jonah leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to Barnabas’s forehead. The impulsivity of the action made him stop for a moment, but this time he allowed himself to own that decision, finally letting go of the string of doubt, letting it slither away into nothingness. He sat back down on the floor beside the couch, continuing to hold Barnabas’s hand, sighing slightly. 

“I care about you, too.”


End file.
